Biker Chick(en)

Wednesday night, I bailed early on in my weekly night ride with my group. It was cold outside - too warm for ice, maybe, but cold enough that I was worried about it. We were doing a new route, and it was a hill challenge. The route started with a ride through what is basically a bog with a bridge built through it. It was pure frost and ice.

I rode through it, unhappily. I don't want to fall. Logically, I know I won't bust open like Jiffy Pop, but you weren't there when my doctor reopened my incision back when I was having that fluid complication. I sort of busted open like Jiffy Pop. Ew. And I didn't even feel it, weird. One of those things that I shouldn't have watched him do, like when I watched my breast biopsy on ultra-sound years ago. Blech.

Who knows what's holding me together, but it's not duct tape.

I decided, riding across that ice, thinking about years earlier when I slipped on a wet meter cover on a rainy sidewalk and broke my ankle in two places...if anything would make me afraid of biking, it would be falling on ice and my guts busting wide open.*

*I know this probably wouldn't happen. But still. It might.

So I turned back, and Strava only logged a measly 1.9 miles. And Mr. W. turned back with me, haha, which I am certain had tongues wagging in that little group! When he said he would turn back, too, one of the men looked aghast and said "WHY?" (Bailing on a bike ride: very poor form, and with a regular group, leaves you wide open for mockery and derision, which I received later via email from the group leader, haha.) Poor Mr. W., I told him were are not a secret, but I am not interested in being the goofy biking and holding hands couple on the rides. :) He's overshot on the cloak and dagger bit...I just told the guy, "He's my carpool." Which is sort of true, as Mr. W. usually throws my bike on top of his car since it's easier than me cramming in my back seat or getting out my bike rack. He has a cool roof rack, 'cause that's how he rolls.

So, Mr. W. is taking me away for my birthday next weekend. Yay for weekend getaways! We're going to Lake Chelan Winterfest. It's fun how this all came about - I had mentioned that there is this little festival that I want to see sometime because they release Chinese lanterns over the lake (oooo, I saw this in the movie Tangled, I wanna see it in real life, not animation, haha).

I wanna see this.

So, the next time we talked, he said that Winterfest is on my birthday weekend, and he'd like to take me. Very sweet! He booked a place and told me to take a day off work, and away we go!!

Ah, I am having fun with him. I really enjoy being with him a lot. I'm wrestling a little bit, but I'm not sure if that's me or him. He is soooo nice. And a total enginerd. I mean, he loves to do the cycling, and he's fun and everything...I'm just not sure. I'm rolling with it for now (biking analogy, you catch that?). He is *really* smitten with me - that gets a little overwhelming. For you long-time readers, you'll understand when I say that I am dating me when I was with Greg. Totally lovestruck. I can see why this got on Greg's nerves so much, hahaha. Wants to be with me every free minute.

So, when I'm with him - actually in his physical presence, it's pretty great. He's thoughtful and sweet. He's touchy, like me, but a bit overly so. He listens and learns though. Seriously, I had to tell him to go sit down when I cooked dinner the other night: I do not need a backrub while frying burgers. :)

I was looking for a Buster Bluth backrub clip, but this will have to do. Had me in stitches, anyway. :)

Enginerd. I had to ask my enginerd girlfriend if her type really deserved love. She says yes, but I'm not entirely convinced yet. I swear he referred to hanging out with my family as a "cultural experience."

But...the many positives. I am so totally myself with him. I am happy and comfortable and laughing and having a good time. I walk around naked, I swear when the urge hits me (oops, this urge hits often), I do not worry about sagging hangy boobs. I get to be me, and he likes me. I like him, too. He overuses his vocabulary, exactly like I do (good lord, we could both use some language parsing). He laughs at himself and lets me laugh at him (um, this is crucial, as laughing at my friends is one of my most favorite pasttimes, hahaha). He's overly serious and overly supportive (again - can I just get a nice MIDDLE OF THE SPECTRUM MAN once in awhile). But this morning when I texted that I went to bed early and he blathered something about he's glad I got down time because we all need that and he's glad I'm having "special family time" tonight with my kids (HAHAHAHA - does he mean that I will make them help me clean the house and that I will not be beating them??)...and I just snapped and wrote back,

YOU GOOFBALL - CAN'T YOU JUST SAY "I'm glad you got to veg out and fall asleep in front of the TV like you were dying to do"! SO SERIOUS FOR A FRIDAY MORNING!*

*I did not use all caps. I save that for the blog.

And he appropriately said, "Haha, guilty as charged. Sorry!"

I think he's teachable. I feel a little like a science experiment sometimes:

When backrub was initiated while Subject was leaning over hot skillet, subject's muscles tensed rather than the expected relaxation. Subject then lashed out verbally, demanding Researcher take a seated position across the room. Facial expressions, including furrowed brow and downturned mouth, were observed and recorded. Subject visibly relaxed and engaged in spontaneous laughter while Researcher maintained adequate personal space during "cooking"* exercise.

*Note: Subject continues to prepare frozen foods (in this case, something described as "garden burgers") and describe her actions as "cooking." Possible denial behavior, possible lack of knowledge of genuine food preparation skills. Further analysis required.

Anyway - he's fun and I am enjoying myself. Not sure where this is going, if anywhere, and I do admit that I have been missing Lance Armstrong a bit, who really doesn't give much of a isht what I've been doing or what I think, but he is more than happy to pick me up and carry me whereever I want to go, or just drag me by my hair if that's more to my liking, haha. There's your big dose of over-testosteroney bicycling goodness for ya. (Um, the flip side of that is, of course, that he is a chain-smoking nicotine patch wearer who is also an alcoholic and probably technically addicted to cycling and other things, too. And he really doesn't give much of a isht about me, though he can feign well from time to time - which I think of as his version of foreplay, hahaha "Hey, how have you been?")

Middle of the spectrum, please. I do love that Mr. W. can easily laugh at himself - and he's comfortable and confident with who he is, which, as I've said, is a total enginerd. And I think as long as I get to call bullisht when it gets too deep, we'll be okay. And he called total bullisht on me this week when I was pressing to sign us up for a SNOWSHOE 10K! at Winterfest. No way. Do you know how far that is in snowshoes? Have you ever snowshoed? (Well, no.) Nuh-uh. And why pay $80 in entry fees to do something we were already going to do by ourselves? He said we can spend the $80 on the wine tours instead. Masterfully played, sir, well done.

Hrumph. Well, if you know me, it's in your best interest to stand your ground or I can be umm, a little bit steamrollery, just a little. And I don't like to be told no, or not get what I want. But my respect for him shot through the roof over that silly 10K, because I am sussing him out, making sure he has a bit of that certain je ne sais quoi (okay, I'll just say it: backbone) that has appealed to me in the post-divorce world, after steamrolling my X into a beaten down hull of a man. (Oops. I'm sorry about that.)

Bet this post is more than you bargained for, but obviously, my mental gears are working hard today. (Another cycling reference for ya there.)