Poker Games & Bowling Lanes.

So, my first date on Friday with Apt F was... Well, it was kind of a shitshow, actually.
I woke up at 6:30 am Saturday morning in a fog to a fully lit apartment, ESPN quietly on television and no neighbor next to me. I had a vague memory of getting home after dinner, drinks & more drinks. I picked up my phone, and dialed his number.

Where are you?

I'm in Hawaiian Gardens playing poker.

What?!

Yeah, you were being lame. So I left.

You're in.        Hawaiian Gardens.          Playing poker.

I hung up.
I was incredulous.
He followed that up with a text asking why I was so upset with him last night.
I responded promptly with:

No idea.
Not at all.

But I'm not too happy with you right now, so perhaps I was on to something?

He then replied, asking if he knocked on the door in twenty minutes would I answer?
I did not respond, put my phone down and... unlocked the door. Sure enough - in 20 minutes time, I heard his car pull up. He walked in, laid down next to me and we both slept until I had to go to work.

My poker face conceals about
as much as this women are wearing.
Very little.

I should probably explain; the date itself went well. I mean, we hang out every night. This time we just did it a restaurant. Longstoryshort, we then met up with Beauty for drinks, and about halfway through our first round, my Ex's sister walked in. Excited to see her, I followed her outside to smoke in the cold, mainly to gossip about Apt F and catch up in general. At that point, my Ex himself walked out of the dive bar next door, grabbed her by the arm & wordlessly led her away. After that debacle, the three of us headed down the street to another bar & promptly ran into Beauty's Beast of an exboyfriend. We stayed for a couple drinks, & Apt F and I returned to Apt C, where - according to him - I got very upset about my run in with the Ex. (This part is a little fuzzy.)

So, he left.
Why he didn't just decide to go upstairs to his own apartment is beyond me.
But, I think he needed to clear his head a bit; though he did it an a verrrry odd way.

With poker.
At a casino.

At 3 am.*

*I feel inclined to mention that he did not drink nearly

as much as I did.

 I may or may not have been drowning my sorrows a little bit.

Okay, a lot.

That's some Wall
ya got there kid.

Sometimes, we (and 'we' being 'me') forget that men have feelings too. Let's take into consideration that I do see him every night, have not been open to any sort of real discussion about us or being together; for instance; when I was gone last weekend for Halloween he texted me,

I guess I kind of adore you. Sorry to bug, but I felt like texting you that.

I replied coldly, We agreed none of this. Call you in the am.

I've been making it a routine to hurt his feelings justalittlebit. I have been stubborn and shallow; I have been so completely anal retentive; holding back and back until it was almost too late.
I have treated this Friend who I care about quite a bit like he was disposable, even when I knew he wasn't.
I really have been such a brat; its a good thing that I have a terrible poker face - that even with all my attempts at indifference towards him, I was transparent enough that he knew I had feelings for him. I'd have thrown my hands up a long time ago.
So after Friday night, he was fed up with me and my Poker Face & needed to put his on for a couple hours.
I don't blame him. 
Saturday morning, I showed up at the shop & soon realized I wasn't actually scheduled to work that day.
So after hanging out in the store for a bit, I turned around and headed home just in time for lunch. He was still in my bed when I got there - cuddled up with Kat Moss and watching football. Waiting for me. Our day together - he, me & Beauty - was fantastic; we brunched, bistro'd, and we all went bowling.
It was like the commercial, our day was spent in the Land of Oz.
Walking into a tiny little gastropub, post-brunch but prior to bowling, he nonchalantly asked,

I mean, what are we doing?

I rolled my eyes and wagged my finger at him.

No. Don't even start.



No! No! Nope!

 

Okay maybe a little. Or, a lot.


And later, standing there with awful clownish bowling shoes on our feet, he put his arm around me, & said,

You know I really do adore you. Which is more than Like. Which frightens me.

And, babe, you're really a terrible bowler. Just. Really. Terrible.

At this point, I know that I have allowed the whole notboyfriendBoyfriend mentality to get a little ridiculous - because, the truth is:
I really do adore him too.
That, and I am truly a terrible bowler with a crap poker face.

His dad asked what I did for a living.
Apt F answered & said, 'She's got amazing Style.'
His dad laughed, 'And she's dating you!?!'

We had The Talk Saturday night.
We agreed that our relationship was - & really had to - progress forward.

I mean think about it, for all intents and purposes you already are my girlfriend.

He's right.

We spend every night together.

Yep.

The only thing stopping us is whether or not you want me to be your boyfriend.

Again, totally correctamundo.

Whether you are willing to commit to progressing with this relationship.

And I'm not sure you are.

I looked at him sheepishly,

I am.

So, then, stop trying to sabotage it.

So I have agreed to work on ridding myself of the wall I've built upon that staircase I march & to rid myself of that awful poker face.
To be in a committed relationship.
To be his girlfriend.
I have a Boyfriend. Capital B.

And, he's promised not to take off to Hawaiian Gardens in the middle of the night anytime soon.

Sidenotes: Goldi found her Just Right in the Doctor. They said the three magic words the night they celebrated his birthday.
Apt F, aka My Boyfriend, and I really do have a great friendship, & in the last couple days I have really paid attention to how sweet he is, and how much he really does like me. And how much he has put up with all my bullshit. We're both just trying to grow up, me at 29 and him at 36. He makes me laugh, he holds me close, he compliments me, he likes my friends. Actually, he likes them a lot. He's not perfect, but he's pretty damn great. And fuck, I'm nowhere near perfect myself; and he adores me anyway. Unlike many of my past relationships or in dating, where I attempt to hide the parts of myself I dislike behind some guise of grace and poise - he already thinks I am graceful & poised, and a little bit kooky. Okay, a lot kooky.
And of Beauty, he told me that she 'talked me up' every time I left the table Friday & Saturday; so to her, I say thank you, My Love.
Also, I deactivated my online dating profile.