Mr. Fixer sent me a heart-shaped box of chocolates, a chocolate rose and a beautiful, white rose for Valentine's Day. I was surprised, impressed, grateful and wary.

Mr. Fixer brought me a bouquette of carnations, irises and baby's breath when he came out to visit me for the first weekend of March. It was our first meeting. I was again surprised, impressed and grateful, but I was also still wary and a little confused. I felt like he was moving too quickly. Getting flowers, being told someone likes me, being treated with deference and tenderness... those things make me very suspicious.

Mr. Fixer touched me. A lot. He took every opportunity to brush his fingers against my shoulders, brush his knee against mine when sitting side by side at the table, "accidentally" touch my back, hug me, sit close to me when showing me pictures... I was wary, suspicious, a little stiff. I couldn't seem to force myself to relax. I couldn't figure out why he was interested in me. I couldn't fathom what he saw in me.

Mr. Fixer liked my hands. I had my nails painted in that French Manicure style - ya know, white tips. He frequently commented on how nice my hands looked... how beautiful they were. I thought he was crazy for liking me. I thought he was totally, bat-shit crazy for wanting my company, for wanting to be near me, for liking me, for thinking I was beautiful and gentle and generous and kind and honest. I couldn't believe that he really and truly liked me.

I thought we wouldn't look right together. Mr. Fixer's height/weight proportionate, exquisitely formed, but smaller than me, by a noticeable difference. I was certain that if anyone saw us together, they would laugh and point and sneer about how the circus must have been in town. I could hear choruses of "Jack Sprat could eat no fat. His wife could eat no lean..." I could imagine how humiliated he would be, how the world, so image conscious, would laugh at him and call him names for being seen with me. If we were just friends, just buds, he wouldn't get ridiculed so much. But we couldn't possibly have a legitimate relationship... not without him having to fight, every day, with the cartoon-ish image of he and I together.

I wouldn't let myself relax. I wouldn't let myself like him because our being seen together would make him a target for ridicule. I refuse to be the reason someone else gets laughed at. So, throughout the time he was here, I refused to think there could be anything more than friendship between us. I couldn't like him. I wouldn't allow it.

And then I talked with David and told him exactly that. He said, "So what?" I was surprised. "So what? The 'What' is that he'd be laughed at. Think about it! Us together? We would look like freaks. He would be ridiculed and humiliated. That's 'So What?'!!!"

David said I was being stupid. I didn't believe him. I was still suspicious. David was height/weight proportionate. How would he know what it was like to walk down the street and hear the young assholes drive past singing, "Where's the fat bitch, there's the fat bitch."? How would he know what it was like to be laughed at because of the company you keep? His wife is beautiful, height/weight proportionate and shorter than he is. He and his wife look "right" together. How would he know what it was like to be an object of ridicule just because you don't look the same way as everyone else?

But, I thought about it. I thought about what it would be like to just relax, to just let go of my own foolishness. I wondered if I really could open up enough to be in a relationship. After all, with my history, there's absolutely no reason for me to dive into something else. I don't do relationships well. An ex-husband, ex-infatuations, ex-internet interests... none of those relationships worked out. Why in hell would I even contemplate a relationship where the deck was already stacked against us as far as the physical thing was concerned?

But still I thought about it. I told myself - and Mr. Fixer - that he wasn't The One. I told him I didn't know where we were going or if there was any chance that we could go anywhere at all. I told him that I was scared and confused and unsure of what I wanted. And, I told him that I wanted to take things slowly.

Mr. Fixer said he wanted to see if he could get me outside of my box, outside of my shell. He said that I had more to offer than I realized. I still thought he was absolutely bat-shit crazy. I was still suspicious. I was still wary.

Mr. Fixer sent me a stunningly beautiful arrangement of lilies. A gorgeous crystal vase. White, aromatic, perfect lilies. Purple/gray heather. It must have cost him an arm and a leg, but it was so beautiful. I held on to that thing for a solid hour. Every room I went to, I took those flowers with me. I thought he was crazy and foolish to have spent so much money on me, but oh how wonderful it felt to be spoiled in such a way. It was just a week and a half after he left... and they were vibrant, stunning, aromatic... perfect in every regard.

Is that what boyfriends do? Really? Is that what men do when they're interested in a woman? That doesn't JUST happen in the movies? That wasn't just a ploy to get into my pants?

Of course it wasn't!!! Who in their right mind would ever try to get into my pants?

(Sensing a trend here? Captain Low-Self-Esteem strikes again! Muahahahahaha - hack-cough-wheeze)

I had no idea what to do. Here was a man who was... really and honestly, a man. He wasn't a boy in a grown-up body. He wasn't some adolescent sniggering at how easy it was to wind up the fat chick. He was a man, with intelligence, kindness, gentleness, compassion and real and true maturity. Mr. Fixer was a GOOD MAN! You know how very, very rare those are?

He was piquing my interest. He was coaxing me out of my shell. He was enticing me out of my box.

And so, I made plans to visit him. I was going to go for a week or so. And he semi-jokingly suggested I stay longer. I thought about it. What did I have to lose? We were already good friends. I could probably find work there. After all, I have skills that are needed wherever there are white-collar jobs. Everyone needs secretaries and receptionists and accountants... Hell, I figured I could get a job in a call center or something like that. It couldn't be that difficult, right? Would moving out there be so bad? I could go for the week and leave it in God's hands... submit a few applications... let God provide me with a job if Mr. Fixer's town was a good one for me to be in. What could it hurt, right? It was worth a try, right?

So, I thought about it. I prayed about it. I asked God to guide me. I asked Him to open the doors I should go through and close the ones I shouldn't. I asked Mr. Fixer if he was serious about my staying longer than a week. He started backpeddalling. Well, uh, like, if my truck couldn't make it... I could stay long enough to get a job to pay for the repairs... yeah... that could work...

I completely ignored the back peddalling. I was so smitten with possibilities. Maybe I really could grow up. Maybe I really could find a place to belong. Maybe I really could take the risk. If this guy really likes me... if he really does like me... can't I take the risk? Can't I at least try it? After all, no matter what happens, I know Mom would help out if I absolutely hated it. If I didn't like him, or if he turned out to not like me... I could always go home, right? Right?

So, I applied for a couple jobs. I packed my shit. I suggested leaving for Mr. Fixer's town a few days early, what with my being packed and all. He back peddalled. He said that he, uh, well, uh, thought, maybe, uh, it would be best to uh, wait, uh, until the, uh, Thursday...

So, again I prayed about it. I left it in God's hands. I would leave when God gave me the okay. Wednesday it snowed. I don't mean that a few flakes drifted downward from the sky, I mean it snowed... big flakes. Snow the likes of which I'd never seen before. Usually, here at the beach, we get small, wet snowflakes. They're usually gone half an hour after they fall. And, they usually don't fall for much more than ten or twenty minutes. Yes, we measure snow in minutes rather than inches. But, Wednesday, we got a decent three inches of snow or close... and for us rain-hounds, snow is not fun stuff in which to drive. I can handle almost any kind of rain... but get snow mixed in there... well, at that time I still didn't have windshield wipers or heat, so the thought of driving in snow was... not a pleasant one.

Regardless... I left Thursday morning, around 9am. I would much rather have left around 6am, but I kept waiting for God to tell me when to go. After all, He knows better than I do. I kept asking, "Now? Can I go now?" and the answer I got was, "Is your truck packed?" "Well, uh, no." "Can't very well go if you're not packed now can you?"

See? I'd already made the decision. I was going to visit Mr. Fixer in his town. I was going to drive over five hundred miles without windshield wipers, without heat, with my dog in the front seat. I had made the choice. I was going to visit him and lay everything in God's hands... my heart too.

Very long story just a tad shorter...

I got there and fell in love. I fell in love with his town. I fell in love with his church. I fell in love with his friends and parents and apartment and... And, did I fall in love with him? I don't know. I think so, but there's that part of me that says it couldn't be love. It couldn't be anything like that... I've only known him for a short while. We've only seen each other twice... How could I possibly be in love? It doesn't make sense. It's completely illogical.

As I've said before, however, emotions are not logical.

It was incredible. I spent the first couple days adjusting... sleeping, getting my equillibrium back. But then I went to church with him Sunday morning. I opened myself completely. I crashed through my box. I threw it away. I didn't need it anymore. I had this man beside me, standing beside me. He may have been shorter than me in a strictly physical sense, but his spirit was tall. His spirit was warm and welcoming and inviting and safe. He was brave and courageous and strong and valliant and had such strong, high moral character. He was quiet, letting me peek at my surroundings, letting me get used to it at my pace. He was tender with me. And his church... his church was so filled with the Holy Spirit that I tingled the entire time I was there. I was warm and safe and protected and wanted. I was wanted there.

And no one looked at me funny. No one rolled their eyes. No one sneered or chuckled or hid a smirk. Mr. Fixer introduced me and people accepted me without question, without reservation, without condition. And the sermon... the sermon was for me... the sermon was about giving everything you were to God, relinquishing control and earnestly letting Him be the guide. Give over control to God and He will take care of it. If you're going to say He is your God, mean it.

It was so easy there. It was so easy to let go. Mr. Fixer was at my side. The Spirit surrounded me. These were people who BELIEVED.

I left that service a changed person. I was ready to start my new life. I was ready to give without fear. And I gave. I started. I changed. There was no fear in me anymore. and every time I looked at Mr. Fixer, I saw in him every special and wonderful thing I'd been asking God to bestow upon me. I looked into his eyes and saw a wholeness, a purity, I never thought I'd ever see in a human being. I saw in him real and true character. And I stopped thinking that he was bat-shit crazy.

Rather, I knew that if he WAS bat-shit crazy, then so was I. And I didn't care. In fact, I liked it. He fed me. He birthed in me a sense of wonder, a sense of awe and a sense of capability. Nothing was impossible as long as he was willing to share it with me. I knew I wanted to stay in Mr. Fixer's town for a very long time. Maybe not forever, but definitely a very long time. And, I wanted to see just how far our relationship could go. Was I ready to marry him? No. Hell, I'd only been out of my box for a very short while. But, I wanted to explore the world around me. I wanted to taste life around me. As long as Mr. Fixer would be there with me, anything was possible.

I had job interviews set up. I was planning meals. I was doing laundry. My dog fell in love with Mr. Fixer. The possibilities were limitless.

And then he said I had to go home. He didn't see us having a future together.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't fathom what was going on.

"Wait!" my brain screamed, "You can't mean that. You can't send me home. You can't break up with me. I just got here. I just got started. I just took a step outside my box and now you want to shove me back into it??? What's going on? Wait. This can't be my life. You can't mean this! What did I do? Where did I go wrong? How can it be over??? How can you send me home? How can you send me away when 'Home' is here... with you?"

But what did my mouth say? "Oh."

"I just don't think we have a future." he said.

"Oh." I said.

"NO! NO! NO!" my brain screamed. "You're fucking nuts! Don't push me away! Don't get rid of me. Say you didn't mean it! Say you don't want me to go!"

"Well, I'd like to have the muffler repaired before I go. If you don't mind." I said stoicly.

"Sure." I think he said.

To be honest, I'm not all that clear on what he said after telling me to go home. I feel a little like I did after being hit by that Kenworth. I know something really big happened, but I'm not all that sure what it was, or what it means. I'm pretty sure I should know. I'm pretty sure it's important that I know what happened... but I just can't wrap my mind around it.

It was Saturday morning that Mr. Fixer suggested I leave. I spent most of Saturday being silent. I was like a high-functioning autistic person. I couldn't quite hear. I couldn't quite understand. Hell, it wasn't until tonight that I actually figured out why I was so upset. Then, however, I kind of just hung on to the fringe of sanity hoping the land would rise up to meet my feet once more.

We stopped for gas and he got out to fill the tank for me. As I was sitting there, behind the wheel of my truck, kind of numb, he said, "I can smell your hair on the wind."

That was a really good line. So I wrote it down. Sunday morning, I wrote a story using that line. Mr. Fixer said the story was pretty accurate. It was about his telling me to go... from his perspective. I still don't know why I wrote it from his perspective. Probably it's because knowing - even if it's purely assumption - how he feels helps me process. I don't know.

Still... I left Mr. Fixer's town Wednesday morning. I cried all day Sunday. A couple sniffles Monday and Tuesday. I was fine Wednesday... Until I got back here to the beach. I miss him terribly. I thought about him quite a lot today. He hasn't called or Emailed. I kind of expected him to. Of course, I also kind of expect him to write me off... to never contact me again.

And I'm crying about it again. Why? Because I was just getting started. It's not fair. This is the first time I've been in a face-to-face relationship with someone I like, respect, admire and appreciate who likes, admires, respects and appreciates me just for who we are, not what we can do or how we behave or what we have. I like him. A lot. And I have no clue how far our relationship could go. No clue at all. But damn it, I was willing to pursue it as far as I could.

Why am I crying? Because I've just barely gotten out of the starting gate and he's already done. He's already changed the channel. He's off after a different race.

He got me out of my box then told me to go away.

I'm crying because he teased me with, "You could talk me out of it."

No shit, Sherlock! I know I could "talk" you out of sending me home... but that's not my style. I won't manipulate you that way. It HAS to be your choice. If you're scared, say so. If you're doing some attachment disorder thing... that's okay, I can deal with that... but... This is a decision you have to make for yourself. I will not force you into something you're not ready for. It's not my way.

You know what I want, Mr. Fixer. And, I know what you want.

It was really, really nice having a boyfriend for a month. I wish it had been longer. I was just getting started.