He came back last week.
I was nervous about what our reunion would be like. Would things be different? Was that "weird" talk meant to prepare me for another unpleasant revelation that he just hadn't put into words yet? Was I waiting for the other shoe to drop?
His flight came in late on a Sunday night, and even though I had to work the next morning, I was relieved when he wanted to see me right away. He came by my place around midnight, bearing gifts of candy and other sweets from his trip, and after falling into bed together, we stayed up half the night catching up and flipping through his photos before finally drifting off to sleep.
He wanted to see me again during the week, but I was unusually busy. I worked late one day and was going out with various friends for a few nights in a row, so we made plans for that Sunday. The day before, when I was out with Lynn, I caught her up on the situation. "Everything still seems perfectly normal. Am I supposed to pretend that conversation never happened? Should I ask him about it sometime?"
"Noooo. No way. If things seem great, then go with it. Don't ask him about that."
"Why not? I'm kind of in the 'let's just lay our cards on the table' camp."
"I don' t think that's a good idea. It could have just been a momentary freak-out. If he brings it up again, then you have a problem."
I was skeptical, but when another friend enthusiastically echoed Lynn's opinion, I relented.
That Sunday, he and I spent the day together, and by the end of the night, I was suddenly very aware of (and concerned about) how quickly I was falling for him. It seems dangerous to form a strong attachment to someone who has at least partially voiced some hesitation, but I've always jumped into relationships with both feet, and this has been no exception.
Though, as promised, I didn't ask about my new least-favorite word. At least, for now.
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