Mr. Bankston...again. in QUOTIDIEN

Alright! Turns out, I'm imperfect. I am. I am quick to judge.

So, Sunday afternoon, I received a phone call from my friend, asking if I would go out with him that evening. I was in the middle of looking at an apartment because...oh yeah...THE HOUSE SOLD! CASH BUYER!! WE CLOSE ON AUGUST 15, AND THEY want to take possession on AUGUST 15!!!

Today, btw, we received word that we've been accepted to this little, 900 sq ft apartment.

Back to Mr. Bankston. He called back later that evening, and we met up at Longhorn. 90 minutes of easy talk, a lot of explaining on his part - all of which was perfectly reasonable, and some details about my expectations...and his. Last week, he worked 80 hours, split shift on a few of those days. Calling or planning on anything when you're that exhausted isn't first on the list of things to do. I get that.

Conservative comment? He asked if I'd looked in a mirror - how I do not look like the person I actually am inside. I have to agree. I have a church mom look. He knew there was more - but just not how much more there was. As he stated time and again, he wanted to get to know me.

The waitress came back three times before we were ready to order, we were so busy gabbing. It was all just so easy and comfortable.

After the meal, he walked me to his car, I drove him to his. He asked me for a hug, and we kissed. It was just a smidge more than a chaste kiss - and amazing.

I miss my husband. What's more, however, is that it is compounded by the complete lack of physical contact. I'm not talking about sex, though that's going to come up, eventually. What I mean is the casual touching. The brushing against one another as we pass by through the utility room. The hand at the small of my back to usher me into a room. The protective arm about the shoulder - or thrown against my chest when he hits the breaks. The warmth of his breath on my cheek as he reached past to pick up his drink. Holding my hand on a long walk (I love walking in the woods). It's the stuff you don't think about when you're married - but there is so much communication that is lost when touch is gone. And - let's face it, I'm a talker.

My sister insists that I need to embrace being alone. "Embrace it - don't run from it."

Here's the thing. Why should I have to embrace the things that hurt if I have other options? I fully intend to maintain my independence. My apartment, my bills, my daughter, my cats. I'm not seeking to pull a man into the space left by my husband. But neither am I going to stand in this now ill-fitting mold. I am reaching up and outside of this place, and there is no reason on God's green earth, that I should have to do it alone and without the intimacy of touch..even casual or maybe even just a smidge more than chaste?

He isn't the cad I thought he was. I'm glad of it.