Paper Heart & Paper Flower.

I don't know, to keep my blog entertaining, I either have to continue going on horrible dates or fall in love.

To which my littlest sister responded,

Go on bad dates. If you fall in love, your blog'll be really boring.

I always have fresh flowers in my house. (Okay, I like to always have them.) I think the main reason I go running is to look at the flowers in people's yards. I'm a sucker for a man who sends me flowers.
I once read a (long lost) list of things every woman should know, according to Michael Kors - and the one that stuck with me the most was:

Every woman should know the names of at least five flowers, and carnation and rose don't count!

Well, I certainly took this to heart - making it my goal to know the names of many, many flowers. But my favorite has always been bougainvillea... the "paper flower".
It reminds me of both my teenage trip to Spain & my town now, it grows over everything in both places.
Somehow it is able to remind me of both
Far Off Adventures
and of
Home.
I love how it makes even the most dilapidated seem beautiful; the most mundane seem bright.

Neither far off or dilapidated.

Aaaaaaaand... this is neither mundane or home. Damn!
I suck.

So... The Dutchman has gone back to the Netherlands. Holland. Somewhere where the sky is low and Germany is nearby. Yeah. THAT far away. He, like the bougainvillea vines, is The far off, is The adventure, is The undeniable feeling of being home. I miss him more than I ever have missed someone I've only known for three days. He, somehow, in a matter of a weekend, was able to switch on the switch I've been trying to understand all these months - to ignite that illusive Spark. And I did to him as well -  and I still have no idea what It is, but I know that for the last week I have thought of very little other than him. Even sleeping, he is on my mind. 

Our last dinner was wonderful, although we were joined by his colleague... I went believing that this evening would most likely be the last time we ever saw of each other. We met at a restaurant overlooking the water and the downtown marina. I walked into the restaurant (in full Rebel Ballerina, I might add) and found the two of them at the bar. I had been there for about five minutes when The Dutchman leaned to me and said that he would be changing his planned trip to Hawaii to include a stopover in California, to see me again. I was elated. We all chatted over a glass of wine (me) and beers (them). The dinner itself was very nice - and then we all hopped into a cab - first dropping of his colleague at their hotel. When we got to the hotel, The Dutchman hopped out of the car explaining he had to grab an antihistamine in order to survive the hour or so he was able to stay at my apartment. (I have a very fussy Supermodel cat; Kat Moss.) We get to my house, and I realize he is not holding a box of Claritin, but a very expensive sunglasses case... He explains that he bought me something and hands me the case. Inside I find a pair of tortoise shell Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses. I am shocked. I am a terrible recipient of gifts sometimes, so I look at them - and immediately close the case. I thank him, and he tells me he knows I hate them  and I can exchange them if I want. But I do not hate them, I love them! I protest. I put them on, and I can honestly say that no pair of sunglasses have ever fit me better. How he did it, I do not know.

We continue talking, kissing, kissing, crying (me).

I would like you to think about something, he says. This August, after I come to you, please come with me to Hawaii. I will buy you the ticket. I have never felt this feeling for anyone so instantly, so strongly. I cannot not see you again. Please come with me.

I agree to go.
Is this crazy? Am I crazy? Are we crazy? All this year, I have been ranting about the Spark, feeling as though something was going to happen this summer that would change my life forever. I have been waiting for a catalyst of some kind. I haven't known what it would be - and I do not know if this is it - but somewhere at my core, I find this voice telling me that I only have one life, and to remember to live it fully. That this may be it - I have to at least see. That if we do not explore what this is, then I will regret it for the rest of my life.
He and I have discussed the possibility of this just being what it is - a crazy yet fluke connection between two strangers for weekend, or for a summer. But... I was not supposed to be at that bar that night; I was supposed to be on a date. The Dutchman had plans with other colleagues that he and his friend had blown off. I never go to that specific bar at night; Goldi and I had let our friend decide where to go. The Dutchman later told me that before we even spoke, he had followed me to the bathroom in hopes of bumping into me. At one point in the night, my friends and I had misinterpreted something he said as a signal to his colleague as a sign of wanting to rid himself of us, and we had left the bar. He caught us right at the door, just in time. If he had not, I probably never would have seen him again.


He wrote me later, once he was back in the Netherlands,

In any other situation between two other person there would be too much bumps on the road. But we found each other despite of all the miscommunication and wrong guesses about each other! ... I will be happy for the rest of my life that we were just in time at the exit of the bar.

...I know you still think that you picked me first, but I know that I had already chosen you when I saw you standing there. I mean, how could I not have seen you… There’s a beautiful girl standing there, with deep brown eyes a beautiful smile and dressed in an amazing black dress. At that particular moment I already knew from my inside that you were the girl I could easily fall in love with.

I only have one life. We only have one Summer of 2011. We don't get do overs. I haven't a clue what the future holds, but I know that this Dutchman has sparked something inside of me that I haven't felt in a long time, if ever. So, without getting my hopes up, I am planning this trip with him. I will see him again. And maybe it'll be like most New Years Eves, over hyped and ultimately a let down - but I won't let the fear of that stop me. Maybe we'll drive each other crazy, maybe we won't. Maybe he'll touchdown at the airport and I will melt, or maybe he'll cringe. But the reality of the whole thing is that I am unwilling to let the fear of it going wrong stop me from seeing if it could, perhaps, go very right.
So...
Here's to Far Off Adventures!
Here's to Home!
Here's to Paper Hearts &  Here's to Paper Flowers.